


Riches and Regalia

by nicoleiacross



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, M/M, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, Warden Carver Hawke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-11 18:36:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4447241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicoleiacross/pseuds/nicoleiacross
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carver shouldn't have begged to go into the Deep Roads. He should have stayed behind. With Mother. With him. He can't change that now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Riches and Regalia

**Author's Note:**

> Another old thing, this time with Warden!Carver uvu Warden Carver is my happy place ♥  
> (Warning for passing mentions of Amell Warden. Iliel was the only Warden I ever really. Finished. All of Origins & Awakening with. I'm so happy it was her, just for this. Also, still applying that Carver worked at the Rose, because this is a headcanon I treasure for reasons.)

When they reach the surface, Carver can feel the taint trying to grip his lungs and heart—a painful, slow grip, trying to poke needles into him. All he can really think about is… is… he shames himself—as best he can at the moment—for not considering Mother or even Garrett. He should have listened—he shouldn't have run away. He got what he wanted. He finally had the attention he wanted— _needed_ , even. He had the attention and he….

 

 _I ran_. The thought is bitter, makes the burn in his blood fiercer, sharper, and his thoughts turn in torturous circles.

 

He'd run to the army to escape Father's death; his company fled Ostagar with any surviving troops; they'd fled Lothering—barely—and left Bethany in a shambled grave, marked only by her staff and bandana next to Wesley's sword; and, now….

 

He ran to the Rose to escape Garrett's protective proximity; ran into a blind infatuation for the one person that saw more than Garrett's shadow… and then ran away from him. He'd spent _weeks_ pining for Cullen's attention and as soon as he had it—

 

Stroud is mumbling something. He's been repeating the words as a mantra for hours. Carver can't understand them anymore.

 

There's a tiny camp, not far from the Deep Roads exit. Stroud barks orders at the group huddled around the fire… the last thing he's consciously aware of is someone telling him he needs to stay awake and needs to drink… whatever they're pressing to his lips. He feels them tilt his head back, feels the liquid trickle down his throat… there's a distinct taste of copper.  He doesn't know why they're bothering. He's going to end up like Wesley; just as dead. Just as forgotten.

 

Of all the things he could—should—think of, he thinks of Cullen again. He _could_ have joined the Templar Order. He _could_ have avoided this whole mess. _And then Garrett would have been tainted, moron_ , he snaps, bitterly, at his mind. No. Garrett wouldn't have fallen to the taint. He would have come out just fine. Carver shouldn't have begged to go. Stroud will send word to Garrett and Mother if he dies… he hopes. If not, they'll figure it out (maybe Anders will tell them… he idly finds himself wondering if the mage will use this to his advantage and then tries to assure his hazy mind that Aveline will look out for Garrett) and… life will go on for them, just as it had after Bethany died. … And no one will tell Cullen, because no one knew. He'll figure it out—maybe he'll ask Garrett and find out that way—and….

 

Something new burns and Carver's suddenly aware of a distinct slur of growls and murmurs in his mind. Something new. Something terrifying and new; a purpose and means. He already failed Bethany; he's not going to fail Garrett—no. He's not going to fail Cullen. He needs to stop lying to himself… and to stop running away.

 

The last thing he feels is a painful thud—it feels like Garrett just thumped him on the back, that  _asshole_ — before everything goes black.

*

When Carver wakes up, things… honestly, this group doesn't seem much different than his brother's. Only filled with more dark spawn. At any rate, they let him take out a _lot_ of his anger those first few days… and he might have managed to impress them in taking down the ogre on his own, but he doesn't really care (all of those horned bastards need to _die a horrible death_. None of it will ever be enough for what they did to Bethany). He needs to sneak back to Kirkwall. They're moving camp closer and closer to the city each day, but it's still not enough where he could sneak off without anyone knowing… and, if he's hearing all the fire-side gossip correctly, they're going to be leaving the area all together soon.

 

He always settles into his bedroll with a scowl on his face. Tonight, though, he doesn't sleep nearly as soundly as he wants.

 

He's gotten used to the murmur of dark spawn and had been relieved that it muffled as they were further from the Deep Roads entrances. Tonight, though, a screech echoes in his mind and he sees a temporary flash of wings, feels the air beat down on him beneath the large form. He wakes up in a cold sweat and short breath. Nathaniel's sitting at the fire; he hardly looks phased and just sends him a dry smile.

 

"It isn't often that the nightmares are that bad without an Archdemon… did the hoard eat you?"

 

"N-no… just… it wasn't like that." Something cold tries to crawl up his spine as the beating of wings continues to pound in his the back of his mind, "It's… it's probably nothing." Carver hates that he can't breathe.  He glances over his shoulder. He can see the Chantry, barely, peeking over the trees, "Family nightmare." He wonders if Garrett still has nightmares about the ogre… the hoard… the Witch.

 

"Ah. Stroud mentioned you fled from Lothering. You lost family, then?"

 

"Yeah…." Carver tries to push Bethany's playful, patient, smile from his mind. He's rewarded (perhaps punished) with a warm gaze and thin smile; with hazel eyes that tell of nightmares rivaled only by the Wardens; with a painful need to run to the Gallows.

 

"Stroud is waiting on orders." Carver startles and throws Nathaniel a suspicious glare. The older man shrugs, "Alistair's still a few days out. We won't be leaving any time soon. Go see your family. If Stroud has a problem, he can report me to Alistair or the Warden Commander. She won't care." His smile is… reassuring somehow.  "Go on, lad."

 

"I—… thanks, Nathaniel." Carver isn't sure how he manages to get to his feet without tripping, "I owe you—"

 

"A new bow would be nice." He knows the man is joking (Carver isn't sure he's ever seen Nathaniel without his family bow), but he still nods and turns without another word.

 

It feels… good to run through the forest. It feels like he's back in Lothering, chasing Bethany and Garrett's bloody hound through the fields and shallow forests around them, always careful to avoid Chasind lands, careful not to wander too far in. No dark spawn, no mercenaries—an occasional spider that's nearly bigger than he is (he wonders if Garrett's still shaken up from the _huge_ one they found in the Deep Roads. He doesn't feel the least bit apologetic for laughing at his shrieks), but nothing horrible. He's out of breath when he reaches the edge of the forest, but he doesn't stop running. Not until he's at the gates of Kirkwall. Not until he sees the foreboding statues of the Gallows and hears the nightwatch call a warning and then a greeting when he shows the crest of the Wardens. He thinks he recognizes the guard… the one they'd saved before Aveline took up her captain post. The man tries to make conversation (he looks startled; everyone must assume he's dead… it's been at _least_ a month and a half and God only knows what Varric's started) but Carver just excuses himself, perhaps too hastily, and darts towards the Templar quarters.  He doesn't recongise the recruits on watch and it takes more will than he cares not to snap at them (the last thing he needs is to cause a scene and draw Meredith's attention… or worse, Alrik or Karras). He tries to remain calm and at least give an air of patience when he explains that he isn't visiting for business, that he's just looking for an old friend and knows how to navigate the halls. He nearly throttles one of the recruits when they continue to refuse to allow him to pass.

 

"Carver?" He startles at the familiar voice and looks up, too happy to see the startled expression on the blonde, " _Carver_?"

 

It takes a lot not to laugh. He thinks he feels a surge of relief… almost enough for a prick of tears. The familiarity from Keran is… good. He just grins and tries not to let his voice warble, "Yes, Keran. I know my name, thank you."

 

"I—but— _Maker_ , Carver, you're—well, bloody Hell, you're _here_." Keran nearly knocks them both over when he pulls Carver into a surprisingly strong hug. Carver just pats his shoulder to try getting the armour out of his sides.

 

"I suppose Varric started something up." He manages when Keran finally lets go. The blonde looks excited and worried.

 

"They—I mean. _Everyone_ heard about what Bartrand did… w-we thought all four of you were dead. Garrett, Varric, and Anders just got back a few weeks ago and… you weren't… Thrask had Ruvena and Paxley and I running to your uncle's house every day! I… er… I think we _might_ have annoyed Garrett. He threatened to have Aveline report us to Meredith if we didn't stop harassing them." The blonde looks sheepish for a moment, "No one knew what happened just… you were missing and… practice hasn't been the same. Thrask and Karras have been monitoring them more often." Carver tries to ignore the way his stomach suddenly feels full of butterflies, the hopeful pang in his chest, "Captain's been… well, worried is a good start. Then he got agitated and… he's been helping Meredith with rooting out the recruits that had survived that… 'initiation'… we haven't seen him much— _oh_!" Keran suddenly looks apologetic, "You probably came to see Captain. Sorry. Right, go ahead." He claps Carver on the shoulder in a friendly manner and an all too bright smile, "You'll stick around a bit, aye? We can grab drinks later if you're still here."

 

"Anywhere but the Rose?" He probably shouldn't; but, Keran still flusters and, briefly, flushes a light pink before shoving him towards the hall with a vague grin.

 

"Laugh it up while you can. Captain'll have you back on training grounds with us by sun-up. Then we can see what all you've picked up."

 

He'll look forward to that later. Right now… _now_ he has something far more pressing to attend to.

 

His boots make a lonely echo as he hurries down the hall. He doesn't notice if anyone else is stationed as guards or really where he's going; he knows. He knows how to get there and— _I should knock_ —

 

He doesn't. He doesn't even need to. Cullen's leaving his office when he rounds the corner; he shoves him right back in and kicks the door closed behind him—damns anyone that may have been standing in the hall—and yanks Cullen into a bruising kiss. He thinks the other man tries to swear; but, at the moment, he really couldn't care less. He hisses, briefly, when Cullen slams him back against the door, when familiar fingers knot in his hair, when the rush of warm spice hits his senses. The nightmare seems so much further away now.

 

" _Carver_ —"

 

"Don't you start your bloody lecturing." Carver tries to snarl at him; but, his focus is on pushing the heavy set armour and robes away, on fighting the buckles on his own armour, " _Don't you fucking dare_."

 

He's pleasantly surprised when Cullen actually listens to him and just yanks him towards a side door that leads off to his bunk.

*

"Carver, you can't stay there."

 

Carver growls at him, sleep already trying to creep back on him, and nestles into the crook of Cullen's neck, "Shut up, damn it. I haven't slept since yesterday."

 

"Do you've any idea what _hour_ it is?" Cullen sounds annoyed. Carver promptly ignores him and resumes nestling and trying to find a comfortable spot to sleep, " _Carver_."

 

"Bloody Hell, you're worse than Bethany." He grumbles a few curses and finally rolls off to the side, enough to let Cullen readjust them and— _oh Maker damn it all, no_. He growls when the other man wraps him up in a gentle hold, " _I'm not a stuffed toy_."

 

"You've been missing for a months." Maker, he's going to use the guilt-trip voice; the low, worried tone that puts Garrett's annoying 'responsible sibling' voice to shame. "Out of nowhere, you up and left. You friend in the bloody guard had to tell me where you ran off to, for Andraste's sake. Your brother comes home without you and refuses to tell anyone where you are… and you show up out of bloody nowhere at an _unholy hour_ of the morning. Just let me do this a bit longer."

 

A moment longer and Carver realises that the hold is protective. Reassuring. He's… really, he just isn't sure if Cullen's trying to reassure Carver or himself. He sighs and squirms about until he can press his back into Cullen's chest. He can vaguely feel the ridge of the long scar against his back; the disturbing incision on the Knight-Captain's chest… it feels terrifyingly comforting.

 

"I wanted to come sooner." Carver mumbles after a spell longer of silence. He tries to smother himself in the nearest pillow, to remember the security that feels like Fereldan. "Wardens are bloody hard to get away from. One of the… senior recruits, I guess is what he'd be, let me sneak off… Stroud's going to have m'arse nailed to a tree if he gets his way. Told me it'd be stupid to come back." Those weren't the _exact_ words, but they pretty much summed up the lecture he'd been given the first time he said he needed to see his family (a lie as it had been; he'd have gone straight to the Gallows then, too). "I swear, he was moving us closer to the city _just_ to be a dickface."

 

Cullen gives a quiet snort against his neck, "Language." Like he can talk. There's another stretch of silence, "… Then… you're a Warden now. … I suppose I should have recognized the regalia. Iliel and her friend wore it, too, when they came back to the Circle." Carver just blinks in surprise. He knows that name… he doesn't hear it often, but he's heard Nathaniel use it. Stroud always snaps at him for it.

 

"You know the Warden Commander?"

 

"… She's Commander now? … I suppose that makes sense, given what she's done. That would make her the arlessa of Amaranthine, too, if I'm not mistaken. The Hero of Fereldan." Carver scowls, softly, at the vaguely wistful tone in the man's voice, "Did you know, her family is actually from Kirkwall? She's an Amell, by blood."

 

Carver locks up. Well _that_ … no. No, that can wait. He… no, he doesn't need to bring it up. One step at a time; he needs to get out of _Garrett's_ shadow first. Then he can work on his cousin's.

 

"No matter, though." He nearly doesn't hear the murmur, "What were you even doing awake? How did you get here?"

 

"… I ran. We have a camp a way outside of the city." He squirms, uncertain he should give the reason he came back. "I… I needed to be here one more time. If we leave, I—I mean, there's… Mother, at least, should… oh _bloody Hell_ , Icamebacktoapologiseforrunningoff." He manages to get the words out in one breath before his throat closes and he drags a pillow over to try suffocating himself. He relaxes, a little, when Cullen just gives a soft, encouraging hum against his shoulder.

 

"You're alive." He murmurs after a while longer, "That's all that matters, at present."

 

"I could have been a Templar, though. I _should_ have been—"

 

"You're somewhere much better. Now hush. And sleep." Carver scowls when the older man presses a vague kiss to his neck and swats at him. "Don't you swat at me. There are no dark spawn tunnels for miles. Your family is safe. _You_ are safe. Sleep."

 

"You know about the nightmares?"

 

"I'd recognize the look anywhere. It isn't difficult to piece together. Now, I won't tell you again: _sleep_."

 

"… You aren't _my_ captain." Carver mumbles, but he does settle down and finally stops trying to suffocate himself in the pillow. Cullen just hums and holds him tighter.

 

In hindsight, he supposes Cullen is his captain. Not that he'll ever admit it outloud.

*

The next morning, Cullen has to physically _drag him_ to see his family. Mother hugs him (and hugs Cullen for bringing him home; Carver snickers at the look of alarm that takes over the man's face for a moment) and Gamlen… almost looks relieved. Garrett just gives him a long look. There's something of pride in his eyes, relief… and a lot of awkward silence (save Mother thanking Cullen, still).

 

"Carver."

 

"Garrett." This is always the worst part of seeing his family after periods of separation. And… he really shouldn't. He _really_ shouldn't.

 

"You're horribly pale." Garrett sounds suspicious. Like he's planning to blow up the Warden camp if he finds them and verifies his inane suspicion that they aren't feeding their recruits properly. Carver rolls his eyes.

 

"We're in the Deep Roads most of the day, I should hope I don't have a tan."

 

"Just because you're immune to the taint now—"

 

"Dark spawn aren't the _only_ things down there." Carver resists the urge to roll his eyes again or to sigh. He _really_ shouldn't. ... _Ah, Hell_. It's been weeks. He gives a vicious grin. "For example: there are entire _nests_ of those monstrous, obscenely oversized spiders—"

 

He's not surprised when Garrett punches him. He tackles him in return. They spend a good five minutes wrestling each other to the floor before Cullen finally pulls them apart and Mother drags Garrett to the opposite side of the room by his ear. Even when Cullen gives him a sharp cuff over the head and a small scowl, Carver continues to snicker behind his hands while Garrett gets his own scolding.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think anyone realises how happy I was when Inquisition confirmed one of my favourite Hawke headcanons uvu
> 
> Can't recall why I wrote this, but I needed it for reasons. Also for bros. Hawke siblings are my favourite thing.


End file.
